Carpe Jugulum
by JourneyIntoMadness
Summary: Izzy Ambrose makes a living by studying the dead. She's a lecturer in the FBI and a family friend of Jack Crawford. What happens when Jack wants her to help him catch the Reaper - a serial killer who collects the eyes and hearts of his victims. Will her PTSD inhibit her abilities or will it fuel them. And how will she survive the presence of a rather keen Hannibal Lecter? Post S1.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from the show Hannibal. Anyone else is fair game.

**Note:** Dunno how long this will last or if it'll even be successful but I might as well give it a stab while the ideas are still fresh~

This takes place after the end of season 1, so if you for some reason haven't watched all of the show yet, be warned, there be spoilers.

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

**Seneca State Forest, West Virginia**

"Can you believe this?"

"Is it him? It can't be him."

"Man, I dunno, but it's damn similar."

"It's not the Chesapeake Ripper if that's what you two are on about," Katz interrupted the two officers, stooping down to examine the mutilated body. It was male, in his mid-thirties, and his eyes and heart had been removed with precision. He was laid to rest almost lovingly. His wounds had been cleaned, his clothes were clean, pennies had been put on his eye sockets and his arms were crossed over his chest. The scene would almost be peaceful if it weren't for the facts. This had been the third body the FBI found within the last two months and they had barely scratched the surface as to who was responsible.

Jack Crawford was at HQ, sitting behind his desk, hands pressed against his forehead as brown eyes stared down at pictures of the three victims. There was a connection somewhere; however, it seemed as if there was no discrimination. The victims differed in race, gender and appearance. He chewed on his bottom lip and pushed himself back against his chair. His mind idly wandered to Will Graham sitting in a jail cell - his best man. He entertained the idea of visiting the Baltimore State Hospital and getting Will's help but he quickly scolded himself. No, no, he'd have to get expertise elsewhere. But where? There was no one like Will. Unless-

Jack drummed his fingers on top of his desk, peering over at the picture of him and a younger woman, obviously not his wife. The two were smiling and happy. The girl was Izzy Ambrose, and she was the closest Jack would ever have to a daughter. With that in mind, he pushed away from his desk and made his way to the training room, where he knew Izzy would be teaching today.

* * *

A body fell hard on the blue mats, then another. One fell having been flipped on his back. The grunts of the person responsible for their defeats echoed throughout the room as yet another body hit the mat with a thud. A woman with brunette hair and blonde streaks spun on her heel and captured another "slicing" the student's throat in a fluid manner. She then dodged one coming towards her, bending down and moving back to avoid their blow before pushing forward on one knee, taking their wrist in her opposite hand and thrusting the fake knife into his heart. "You're dead." She stated dryly.

She moved away, standing up straight and peered down at her six students, "Why are you all dead? You all have extensive training - karate, jiu jitsu, tai kwon do - holding a brown or black belt in the martial arts and you have hand-to-hand combat training...I only took six months of aikido and that's where my self defense training stops. So why are you dead? Is it because I'm faster, more agile, or just plain better? No. It's because I was trying to kill you. The drive to kill someone is very strong and it will override any previous training you've received. Put yourselves in the shoes of a killer for a minute. Think about when an FBI agent comes to you, what's the first thing you want to do?"

A student raised their hand and Izzy acknowledged them, "Run?"

She nodded, "Run, yes and when that isn't an option?"

"Fight," interjected another.

Again she nodded, "Yes. It's a fight for their life, for their freedom, for survival. And you're threatening that and when someone threatens that...that innate animalistic instinct kicks in and you wanna kill them." She gave them a moment to let that sink in, "I was able to beat you all because I wanted you dead. You guys need to wrap your head around that concept if you want my ass on the mat and not yours." Blue-green eyes flicked to a silhouette leaning against the doorway. She smirked a bit at the man before turning her attention back to the man. "Alright you guys can go. Get in some practice and remember you have that paper for societal influences due on Wednesday." The six students happily gathered their things, thanking Izzy for her time before filing out the door past Jack.

Izzy picked up her towel and bottle of water from the corner, "What do you want, Jack."

Jack feigned a hurt expression, "Do I need to want something from you if I come in here? Maybe I'm asking you to lunch."

Izzy stopped for a second and gave the man an incredulous look, "Lunch?"

Jack nodded almost insincerely. The woman knew something was up. He had taught her a lot about behavioral sciences and she knew his ticks like the back of her hand. "Uh huh. Sure, let's get some lunch."

Twenty minutes later, Izzy was back in her regular clothing - cargo pants and a grey top - and accompanying Jack to their favorite diner. Once they were seated and ordered their drinks, Izzy leaned on the table, propping her elbows up and eyes Jack rather earnestly.

"What?"

"Spill."

Jack was hesitant but he eventually gave in. He taught the woman too well, "I need your help."

"I knew it!" Izzy pushed herself back against the booth cushion, "I'm not doing it."

"Iz-"

"No. I am not helping you solve your cases."

"I don't want you to solve my cases, I just want your opinion on something. I promise it's not gonna trigger an episode."

Izzy sighed audibly.

"Listen, you've seen plenty of dead bodies and pictures of gruesome murders and you're still fine. This is no different."

"Oh it is. Because getting my opinion means you want me to step into the shoes of your poster boy and I cannot do that."

"I'm not asking you to be Will Graham. I don't want you there. I just want you to look at this case. I need a third party, objective opinion and there's no one else I trust with that, than you."

Izzy remained silent for a moment, contemplating what Jack was giving her. It was true what he said. She literally surrounded herself with death and none of it bothered her. Alas, she kept a mental and emotion distance from it all. She remained objective and logical. She didn't get into a killer's head like Graham did. She didn't possess his level of empathy. The woman shut off her emotions a long time ago, letting only little slivers of it come through when occasion called for it. If anything she was a highly functioning, apathetic individual. Jack was a family friend, though. Her father had been like a brother to Jack before tragedy struck the Ambrose household. She didn't say no to the man often.

Her iced tea finally arrived and she ordered a ham and cheese sandwich. Jack ordered his food and then gave Izzy his attention once more. "So?"

"Fine. Objective opinion but _only that_."

* * *

"Why the eyes," she muttered, looking at the pale, cold body currently laying in the morgue.

"We think he might have collected them as trophies," Zeller commented. Izzy shook her head in disagreement but didn't offer a reason.

"What do you see?" Jack inquired, hands laced together behind his back, calculating eyes watching Izzy's every move.

After a beat, "Desperation." She held her hand out for the file and Katz gave it to her. Blue-green orbs scanned over the information on the victims before glancing up to Jack, "Objective opinion?" He nodded. "Sympathetic killer? I really have no idea. This is strange."

"Their one common factor is that they were all going to die pretty soon anyways," Price offered, "They all had some sort of ailment and only months or a few years to live."

"So we have a Kevorkian? Maybe, but I don't think so," Izzy responded, snapping the file shut. "Your killer's definitely a surgeon, though, or at least they used to be."

Katz nodded in agreement, "That much we figured but it doesn't exactly narrow down the field any."

Izzy shrugged and handed the file back to the other woman. Jack gestured to the door as he headed towards it. Izzy followed and folded her arms across her chest. "See? Nothing useful."

"It's alright. I just wanted to know if it was as strange as I thought. Izzy about your episodes-"

"I haven't had any lately if that's what you're wondering. It has been a year."

Jack nodded, "Good but if you ever need anyone to talk to, I'm here and if you don't wanna talk to me, there's someone I can recommend. He's quite good."

"Oh God, no more therapists, hypnotists, psychiatrists, I don't care. I don't like people in my head. I barely like me in my head," Izzy responded, rubbing her temples.

Jack put one hand up defensively and the other on her shoulder, "I'm not saying make an appointment with him. I'm saying...join us for dinner tonight."

Izzy rose a brow, "First lunch, now dinner."

"Seriously. He's an amazing cook and great to talk to. You need to get out more, Izzy."

The brunette heard this fatherly talk before the last time she turned inward for a week. She didn't like socializing, though she was fully capable of doing so and being amazingly charming when she bothered. "You know how I am about _people._ I much prefer beating up on your agents and giving them bad grades."

"Oh, trust me, I know but you could also some good company and a home cooked meal every now and then. It's just dinner. What do you say?"

The woman internally groaned, hating not being able to say no to the man. He always meant well for her. He got too attached to people sometimes, like with that Miriam girl and Will Graham. Three times now it had backfired on him. Yet, he kept doing the same thing over and over. He was the embodiment of insanity if Izzy ever saw it. She slowly nodded her consent, avoiding eye contact.

Jack clapped his hands together with a broad smile, "Great. I'll let him know we're coming. Be ready by 8 alright?"

"Yah and remember I'm vegetarian!" Izzy said walking away.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes? No?


	2. Dinner Is Served

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from the show Hannibal. Anyone else is fair game.

* * *

**Chapter 1 -** Dinner Is Served

* * *

"Well isn't this place swanky," Izzy remarked as Jack pulled up to a lavish three story house. This guy was certainly not hurting for money.

"Wait until you see the inside. The doctor has good tastes," Jack replied, maneuvering out of his car.

Izzy followed suit and had a look around the neighborhood before following Jack up the stairs. He rung the doorbell and waited, taking his gloves off while he did. Izzy looked around again, hands shoved deep in her dark grey hoodie pockets. It was only August but up here near the New England states, it got cold rather fast. Izzy wished this dude would hurry up and get the door. Her legs were freezing in the red ruffle skirt she decided to wear.

Blue-green eyes still observed their surroundings, trying to make out objects in the twilight. Jack gazed upon her for a moment and silently shook his head, "Do you ever switch off?"

"No," she stated quietly. After a beat the door opened, light flooding onto the porch.

"Mr. Crawford, come in," The host stated, moving aside to allow him passage. Izzy finally turned and greeted the man with a small smile.

"So this is the guy you know? Dr. Lecter?"

"Have you two met before?" Jack questioned, taking his overcoat and scarf off.

"Briefly." Hannibal replied, "Dr. Bloom introduced us a year ago?"

Izzy nodded in agreement, "Never had a proper conversation, though." She unzipped her hoodie and hung it next to Jack's coat. She wore a black tank top that went all the way up to her collarbones but properly showed off her toned arms from tossing hapless agents around.

"Well, tonight we'll get that chance. Welcome." Hannibal closed the door behind them and directed them to the dining room. "Jack told me you were vegetarian so I was sure to make a special dish for you."

"Thank you."

Hannibal promptly pulled out a chair for her, which she sat in, and then effortlessly pushed her towards the table. Him and Jack then disappeared into the kitchen to grab their meals. While they were busy with that, Izzy again started observing. She took in every ounce her eyes came across, noting the decor, the color, even the lighting. In front of her was the fireplace framed by stacked wood molding, stained an indigo blue. It almost reminded her of the night sky. Above the fireplace was a painting from an artist she couldn't make out and on either side of that were horns of ivory, possibly real. Nothing in here was out of place or unnecessary. It seemed every item had its purpose. The dining room was almost theatrical. Which meant that Dr. Lecter frequently had guests, counting the number of chairs at the table.

Her deductions were cut short when she heard Jack say something in passing to Lecter as they reentered the dining room. Izzy automatically straightened up in her chair as Dr. Lecter placed a plate in front of her. "Here you go, Miss Ambrose. Roasted squash with a corn bread dressing and a side of Greek salad. All made from scratch. I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will." Izzy unfolded a napkin from the table and placed it on her lap. She closed her eyes momentarily - something that did not escape Hannibal's notice - before taking her first bite of the squash. The smirk on her face and another bite indicated that the food was to her liking. "Incredible, Dr. Lecter, thank you."

Hannibal bowed his head in thanks, "Thank you for allowing me to cook for you."

"If I could hire you as a personal chef, Doctor, I would," Jack stated, savoring the flavor of his roast lamb.

"You flatter me, Jack. But tell me, how do you and Miss Ambrose know each other?"

Izzy decided to remain silent. She usually didn't speak unless she had something to say, which most people wrongly thought was her being introverted or shy. She was thoroughly capable of putting forth her opinion but only if she felt it necessary. At this point in the conversation, she felt Jack could handle the situation. Something about this house and the man that owned it was very off putting to her and she was currently trying to put her finger on it.

"Oh, um-" He started, wondering if he should delve into the subject of her family's death with a psychiatrist, "Her father and I were good friends. I watched her grow up and I helped her when she was down. I'm her godfather and she's the closest thing to a daughter I'll ever have." He looked over at Izzy and their eyes met. It was obvious they had a familial ground with each other and this only intrigued Hannibal further. When he first met Izzy, it was in passing. He had been talking to Alana Bloom after one of her classes when Izzy came by. This was a year ago, but he remembered it like it was yesterday. The young woman was wearing blue jeans and a long sleeve forest-green shirt. She had a light canvas shoulder bag gripped in her hand, glasses and a beanie over her then brunette hair.

She'd look like another student at the academy if it weren't for her attire. It certainly made her stand out. She had a complete lack of interest in conversation when Alana stopped her, but she decided to be polite. All Hannibal had learned from that day was she was a lecturer as well, working on getting her PhD. He didn't imagine he'd see her again and thought nothing of the event from that day on. Yet, here she was, a year later, at his dinner table and he was learning a little more. "I see. Well you're welcome to dinner at any time Miss Ambrose."

Izzy regarded him for a moment before nodding in silence. She then took a sip of wine, which she decided she disliked but continued drinking anyway, before clearing her throat and speaking up, "Do you have many guests here?"

"Sometimes, yes. I hold dinner parties on occasion."

_Thought so._

"Has Will ever been to one?" The silence that question brought was only punctuated by Izzy continuing to eat, not caring about the subject she just touched upon.

Hannibal nodded, "A few times, yes."

"I understand you were his doctor while he worked on the Shrike and Ripper cases." Another sip of wine. She was watching Hannibal this time, gauging his reactions. This is what she did sometimes. She would poke people suddenly to see what they would do and get a peek under the mask they wore. Everyone had one, even her. Sometimes they were of good design, others, not so much.

Hannibal took a moment to regard her and the question. She must know Will in some way to be bringing up such a thing. Nevertheless he indulged her, "That's correct."

"Hm." Was her only answer. She wanted to reply with the biting remark that Dr. Lecter must have not done a good job if Will snapped and killed Abigail Hobbs, but she thought it prudent to keep that to herself.

When she said nothing more, Hannibal decided to do some probing of his own, "Did you know Will?"

"Yes. Maybe not as well as Jack or Alana, but I did know him. Tragic what happened. Never pegged him for a killer."

Jack finally interrupted, putting a hand up in objection, "Look what happened to Will and the Hobbs girl was terrible, yes, but what's been done is done."

Izzy decided not to cause a scene. She and Jack had already had this argument. She thought Will was innocent, possibly framed. Jack said the evidence proved otherwise. The woman wanted to slap him then and there out of sheer disbelief. _Evidence can be tampered with._ But in the end, neither of them could do anything about it because the evidence was overwhelming, open and shut. She took another sip of wine and continued to eat in silence as Hannibal and Jack made small talk. Hannibal continued to observe the girl from time to time. She was a strange one and very mysterious. The way Jack spoke about her family...Hannibal guessed that her father may have been dead. She had a little tragedy of her own. He, being the psychiatrist he was, wanted to know more about what went on in that mind of hers.

* * *

After dinner was complete, Izzy was quick to get up and gather the plates. Hannibal stood as if to stop her. "Oh don't bother Doctor. You can tell her not to clean the dishes, and she'll do it anyways," Jack stated, placing light hand on Hannibal's arm. He looked at Jack for a moment and then to Izzy's retreating form before sitting down again. "She stacks the dishes and wipes down the table whenever we're at a restaurant. She figures it's the least she can do."

"So she's very polite?"

Jack hesitated and then chuckled, "Sometimes."

This was her first time in the kitchen and again, that off putting feeling cropped up. This was a chef's kitchen for sure. Just like the dining room, it reflected the doctor's orderly and highly visceral tastes. All the appliances were top-of-the-line. Every surface was corporeal yet strict. She moved over to the large sink with a sprayer and began wiping down the dishes. After about ten minutes of this, Hannibal entered the room. "Jack is in the study, enjoying some brandy."

Izzy chuckled and shook her head, "Looks like I'll be driving tonight."

Hannibal folded his arms and leaned against the center island, "So how long have you been working with the FBI?"

"Not long. Three or so years now. Ever since I got my Master's I suppose."

"Which area?"

"Cultural and forensic anthropology with a concentration on the archaeology of death and religious studies," She answered, turning to the doctor with a smile.

"Quite a specialization. Are you a consultant then?"

"More or less. I teach their budding agents about death and how differing cultures with differing beliefs take to it. I also teach some self defense and that somehow ties into the death course."

As Izzy was explaining away her job, Hannibal took the time to properly scrutinize her. She was beautiful, with high cheek bones and a sharp jaw line. he could spot a few freckles underneath her eyes and across her nose. Her eyes were blue with flecks of green and outlined by black eyeliner. Her hair was a natural brunette currently highlighted with strands of blonde and it matched her olive complexion well. He wondered whether or not she was mixed. She had an accent. It was obviously American but with some of the words she pronounced, it almost had an English tone to it. Perhaps she spent some time overseas? Her clothing was probably the most interesting thing about her. Everything was deliberate and on anyone else, it would have looked odd. Her choice of tank top and skirt were well suited but then she wore grey over-the-knee socks and black boots that came up just below the knee. It was as if she was paying homage to some gypsy heritage.

"And what of you, Dr. Lecter? Just a psychiatrist?" Izzy inquired, shattering his thoughts.

He dipped his head in acknowledgement, pushing away from the island, "Yes. I used to be a surgeon; however, my fascination with the mind out grew that of the body." Once he saw the woman had finished the dishes he gestured to the door and guided her to the study. A fire was already going keeping Jack nice and cozy. He raised his glass to Izzy, "Come, join us!"

"Thanks but someone needs to drive," Izzy replied, taking an empty seat. She tried to resist the urge to let her eyes wander but she lost in the end. Immediately she made out what she could, the fireplace casting an eery glow on everything. Her analytical mind could be annoying sometimes but she thought it a good habit to know one's surroundings, especially if it were a strangers home. Jack was a little too relaxed for her liking. Even when she was at his home, she was on her guard. Maybe it was a result of her family's death, paranoia fueling her persistent need to observe everything. She didn't know and she didn't care. At this point, the woman just wanted to sleep.

Izzy spotted some books nearby and decided to investigate. He had books ranging from history, philosophy, mythology, psychiatry, surgery, how to's for cooking and gardening, to even bird watching. He had a wide range of interests apparently. She pursed her lips musing at the various titles as Jack and Hannibal talked once more. From the bits the woman picked up, they were talking about her and Will and the new case the FBI was investigating. The Reaper is what they were starting to call him. Izzy thought it was stupid. Her mind wandered to what the killer's motivation was and it still escaped her. It began going down a path she didn't wish for it to take and immediately snapped out of it. Jack and Hannibal were silent now and Izzy took the opportunity to get Jack home.

* * *

Once the brunette was back in the relative safety of her own place, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her black and white spotted cat came up and rubbed his head against her leg. "Hey sweetie." She traveled into the kitchen and poured some food into the cat's bowl before heading upstairs to change for bed. It was going to be another long week. She stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought. The dinner had brought on some memories she hadn't touched on in quite awhile. Her and Will weren't particularly close. Their objection to social gatherings was one of the things they had in common. She would visit him after his class and vice versa sometimes. She liked Will as if he was becoming a brother but once Jack had pushed him into investigating those cases...Will just wasn't the same. She could see him unwinding day by day, delving deeper into the dark spaces of his mind until finally he snapped. Izzy never forgave Jack for that but she kept that detail to herself. She was afraid of the same thing happening to her. She was hesitant to start consulting for the FBI given her history of PTSD but she started off slow and realized that death didn't bother her as much as she thought. As long as she didn't dwell on what happened fourteen years ago, she would be fine.

Owen, her cat, hopped onto the bed - satisfied with his dinner - and curled up on the pillow next to her. His purring slowly lulled her into a deep sleep. Her dreams were pitch black and empty, devoid of life. Only sound was there. Muffled voices, crashing and then screaming came to the forefront of her mind. She felt as if she was floating. She turned around and came face to face with a demon of her past, _"I see you." _The man burst into flames, screaming out in agony causing Izzy to jolt awake and sit up. She scanned her room, expecting someone to be there, but there was only Owen, still asleep across the pillow. She rolled her eyes and slammed back against the bed. It was only a dream.

* * *

xXAnimeXXRevolutionXx I vote yes for now.

You'll have to write more before I can say any more about it. What I can say is that I see a great deal of potential for this story to go in many directions. Especially since this is post Season 1; you're not bound by canon. That makes writing this simultaneously both easier and harder. Good luck.

~ Mmm. Trying to progress from S1 is a bit of a pickle but it does give me options to work with. I'll be able to start picking this up now that I've laid down a bit of foundation.


	3. Dance With Your Demons

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from the show Hannibal. Anyone else is fair game.

* * *

**Chapter 2 -** Dance With Your Demons

* * *

Blood pooled in around her feet, staining the edges of her grey pajamas. Blue-green eyes followed the blood trail, stepping through the darkness of the hallway. A door opened up at the end. A young girl was sitting on her knees, shaking, staring at the blood on her hands. The body of a man in front of her was cold and lifeless. The girl looked up, it was a younger Izzy. Her eyes were pools of jet black and she released a blood curdling scream. The man turned his head and looked straight at the full grown Izzy, _"I see you."_ He burst joined the screaming and the two visages of her past burst into flames.

Izzy bolted upright this time, sweat pouring from every place on her body. Owen had long abandoned the pillow. The woman breathed deeply, trying to calm her racing heart. She hadn't had a nightmare in nearly a year. Why now? She glanced at the clock - 7 a.m. She released a sigh and flung the covers back, irritated by her night sweat. The brunette took a long shower, trying to wash away everything. She wondered if she was on the path to another episode. The last one nearly got her committed.

She got dressed in blue jeans, a light green t-shirt, a tan sweater and wrapped a light blue, houndstooth scarf around her neck. She fed the cat and grabbed her canvas bag, stuffed full of materials she would need for the class today. Izzy regularly skipped breakfast, never really feeling hungry until about noon.

Her class consisted of some thirty odd students, all eager to learn about death. Izzy had to wonder how many of them had a propensity for the macabre. Perhaps as much as she did. As they filed in at 9 a.m. sharp, the woman was starting up the projector, the slide for today titled "Cannibalism". When she was sure she had their attention, she began.

"Cannibalism. The act of one being eating another. It's just a human concept. Animals do it too. Over the centuries there have been many, many cases of humans eating other humans. Eight times out of ten, people resort to cannibalism in order to survive. Besieged cities have done it and people stranded for days without food have done it. There is a flip side, though. Some people resort to cannibalism because of cultural reasons. In some ancient societies it was known as ancestor worship. They would consume their dead relative so as to be closer to that person. Seems absurd to us, but it was normal for them, and they may not have even liked it. In any case, sometimes tradition motivates reason."

Izzy flipped through the slides, showing drawings of scenes of people huddled around a fire, roasting up their next human meal. "There are some people who do like it. Who believe that by consuming a person, they're taking in that life force. Or maybe it's a simple case of humans taste better than cows." The students chuckled.

When class was over, Izzy began packing away her things when she heard a distinct clicking of heels coming her way. She smirked, not looking up from hers papers, "Hello Alana. May I ask what warrants this little visit?"

Alana paused for a moment seeing a bit of Will in Izzy, "I just wanted to see how you were doing. It's been awhile."

Izzy shoved the last of her papers into the bag and finally looked up, offering Alana a genuine smile, "Yeah, it's been a month."

"How are you doing?"

"Surprising well. I had lunch with Jack yesterday and then we had dinner with Dr. Lecter. You?"

Alana's expression changed only a fraction at the mention of Hannibal. "Wow, you actually did something outside of class. That's impressive."

"Oh..._very funny_." Izzy playfully narrowed her eyes and walking out of the classroom. Alana followed suit.

"I'm doing fine, I guess. Hey, what are you doing this weekend?"

"Most likely grading. Why?"

"Well I thought that maybe we can hang out. Get in some girl time."

Izzy stopped a bit and faced Alana. The two of them were opposites in appearance. Izzy leaned more towards the tomboy territory while Alana was more girly. The woman knew damn well that Izzy wasn't the girl time sort. She was gonna question what brought on this invitation but decided to just play the part of good friend and agreement to it. "Okay...how about Saturday?"

Alana grinned, "Saturday's great. Shall I come by your place first?"

"Yeah, that's fine. I'm usually up around 7."

"I will be there at 8:30 then." And just like that, Alana was off again, purse slung over her shoulder as she headed out the academy. Izzy liked the other woman, she really did. Dr. Bloom was really the only female she bothered bonding with and that was more because of their proximity and mutual friends than anything. Since Izzy had some free time on her hands, she contemplated on what she should do with the rest of her day. She was awfully tempted to tell Jack about her dream but she knew he wouldn't he objective about it. At any rate, she decided to see how he was doing.

Jack was not in a good mood by the time Izzy arrived. They had found yet another body - Two in a week already. He was getting anxious to find out who this guy was and stop him.

"There's nothing here," Price stated, cutting off Jack's angry rant about finding evidence. "This guy is clean and precise. We know he doesn't kill the victims where we find them and all four of them have been killed in different areas. We tried to find a pattern in the geography but there is none."

"This body is different from the others in one aspect; more than just the heart was taken," Zeller offered. Jack looked at him expectantly, "There's no blood. This guy has been drained dry."

"Oh great, so our serial killer is Dracula?"

"Or maybe adding to his collection." Everyone turned around and saw Izzy there, leaning against the door frame. "I think you were right the first time about him collecting trophies. Or perhaps he's using the hearts for medicinal purposes and keeping the eyes. You guys are running on a lot of theories right now."

"Yeah and a huge lack of evidence." Jack sounded irritated. Izzy could see why. "This guy is gonna kill again and I already have a lot of angry families on my hands."

"I don't see why. They're gonna die anyways...I think the families are angry because of the way they died. How did they die anyways?"

"Morphine overdose," Katz answered.

"Out of all the ways this guy could have gone, he chose euthanasia?" Izzy scratched at her forehead at some passive attempt to conjure up some information. "Have you started looking into where they're getting treated? I bet my bottom dollar the guy you're looking for is stalking hospitals. He's looking for people with terminal illnesses but it's very particular. They don't all have the same illnesses."

"So there's another field we can't narrow down."

"But it's not carcinogenic. He wants the heart in pristine condition. So maybe people with brain diseases like encephalitis or an aneurysm."

Price held up his finger before moving over to one of the slabs, "Parker here, was suffering from Alzheimer's. Mrs. Nolan had Lesch-Nyhan disease. And Harrison had Osteogenesis Imperfecta."

"What about the new guy?"

"We're waiting on his medical records now."

"Well if he has a terminal illness that doesn't affect the condition of his heart-"

"Then we have a pattern," Katz finished with a smile.

"Not a substantial one but it's a start."

Jack nodded, liking this bit of progress they were making, "Alright. I'm gonna get some guys on this. Have them start checking out hospitals and patients with those types of illnesses." He walked out and made his way towards his office. Izzy quickly followed.

"You still need motive Jack," she stated, falling into step with him.

"Motive is that we have a psychopath collecting organs. Just like the Chesapeake Ripper. You think this guy is a copycat?"

They entered his office and he moved behind the desk to grab his phone and call up some people. Izzy shook her head in response, "No, definitely not. He has his own agenda." When Jack started making calls, Izzy felt the urge to leave, and so she did.

_You shouldn't be getting involved in this case._ The woman sat in her car for the longest, parked outside the office of Hannibal Lecter. She was wanting to tell someone about her dream. She couldn't risk another episode. Patient/doctor confidentiality would prevent Dr. Lecter from telling Jack or Alana but Izzy loathed the idea of having another therapist and she sure as hell wasn't about to pay anyone to fix her problems. With a sigh, the brunette started her car and headed home. She decided she would be fine.

* * *

"You all should be turning in your papers on societal influences today," Izzy stated as she walked into the classroom. Her students were already there, talking amongst themselves. Her voice alone made them quiet down in mere seconds. She had been working on her PhD for three years now. She could have stayed in the UK and continued her studies there but Jack had somehow convinced her to come work for the FBI. She objected, stating they didn't need an anthropologist. He countered that with the fact that they could use her expertise and vision when it came to matters of life and death.

"Alright, last time we talked about Cannibalism. Today we're going to talk about burial techniques and what it means to trap the soul."

* * *

"I don't know what to do Dr. Lecter. I always feel so hopeless around my husband."

Hannibal Lecter kept his usual blank expression when dealing with his patients. The woman he was currently treating, a Mrs. Jones, was a thoroughly unhappy married woman. She was suffering from acute stress because of her abusive husband. He wasn't the type to beat her up physically, though. He verbally abused and berated her on an almost weekly basis. He traveled a lot for his job and had certain expectations of his trophy wife whenever he was home. Trophy wife she definitely was too. She was well dressed, well mannered, she kept her body and appearance in superb condition and used her husband's money on the upkeep. The blonde was convinced her husband had a mistress at every location he traveled to and when he was gone for months at a time, she was relieved.

There was two ways Mrs. Jones coped with her stress. She either binge shopped or had sex with the pool boy. Her husband found out about the pool boy fling recently and promptly fired him whilst calling his wife a shameless whore. He then left for another week. The woman had been a patient of Dr. Lecter's for three months now and her problems seemed to be piling.

"Have you tried talking to him like I suggested?"

"Oh he doesn't want to talk. 'I talk all the time,' he says. That's not why I married you. When I asked him why he did marry me, he didn't say anything. I've considered divorce but he made me sign a prenuptial. So I'll get nothing for all my trouble."

"So you stay with him despite the abuse because he can take care of you." It was more of a statement than a question.

The woman nodded, "For as long as he will, which I suspect won't be much longer. I'll get replaced soon enough."

Hannibal made a quick note in his journal before setting the pen down and leaning forward, "Mrs. Jones you're a beautiful, sophisticated woman. I'm sure if you left your husband's torment, you would have no problems in finding another man to take care of you. - You might also want to consider taking care of yourself."

Mrs. Jones scoffed at the idea, "Take care of myself? I never worked a day in my life. It'd be like throwing me into shark infested waters!"

"Sharks are typically harmless. Besides, it's only a suggestion. Do you love your husband, or do you love his money?"

The blonde looked shocked at the question, "I never!-"

"Just answer the question Mrs. Jones. Why are you willing to stay in such a relationship that makes you so unhappy? You tell me you don't know what to do when the answer seems obvious."

"I can't just leave my husband!"

"Because you love him?"

She remained silent for a moment. Only the clock ticking away the seconds made a sound. "I did...when we first met and the first few years we were married. I loved him."

"What happened to make you despise him?"

"He got a promotion," she replied flatly. "He got busy, so busy he barely slept. It made him irritable."

"But before then he was a loving, caring man."

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. Hannibal grabbed a box of tissues and handed them to her. "Then the problem is with your husband's job. Not your husband. You really should talk to him about it."

Hannibal was glad when their hour was up. It was six o'clock by then. He had no other appointments that day. Usually Jack or Will would be here at this point but ever since Will was committed, Jack's visits became less frequent and Hannibal had lost a friend.

_Being alone comes with a dull ache, doesn't it?_

He sat behind his desk and adjusted his notes off to the side. His mind wandered to that dinner two nights ago with Jack and Izzy. Ah, yes, _Izzy_. Still a peculiar girl. He was supposed to find out more about her and why she vexed him so. Her randomly bringing up Will felt like a stab in the dark at something. It was like she was trying to accuse him of something. That much he gathered when she simply replied with a 'Hm'. Did she know? No, that would be impossible. She didn't work on the cases. She was just a lecturer.

Friday rolled around and Hannibal got a call from Jack Crawford asking him if he could come do a profile on someone. He agreed and promptly arrived at the headquarters. Jack and Izzy were in a heated discussion about the Reaper suspect that was recently caught. He stood in the doorway and watched the interaction with much amusement.

"I'm telling you, you've got the wrong guy, Jack!"

"This was your idea, Izzy."

"It doesn't negate the fact that you've. got. the. wrong. guy."

Hannibal finally cleared his throat, stepping into the office a bit more. Jack pushed away from his desk and waved the doctor in. "Thank you for coming. What do you know about Reaper killings?"

The Lithuanian cocked his head to the side only a bit, as if recalling information on the case, "Similar to the Ripper case. Victims found with their hearts and eyes removed."

"Yeah, that's the Tattle Crimes version," Izzy replied.

"They all had terminal illnesses and there's no discrimination between how the killer chose his victims, other than he apparently wanted the heart in good condition," Jack supplemented. "We started casing hospitals in this area for anyone matching the criteria and we found an ex-surgeon with some rather unethical history with his now deceased patients." Jack looked pointedly at Izzy as if trying to prove a point. She clearly wasn't having any of it.

Hannibal looked between the two and guessed why he was really here. "You want me to see if he's your killer?"

"You used to be a surgeon too. I figured with your history, this guy would be more willing to talk to you...even though I still think he's not the killer," Izzy replied, crossing her arms and turning her attention to Hannibal. He regarded her for a moment. So this was her idea to bring him in? After a moment, he nodded in acquiescence.

Jack directed him to the interrogation room. Hannibal entered and sat down at the table that separated him from George Hess. The guy was looking a little worse for wear with the bags under his eyes and excessive five o'clock shadow. Jack and Izzy stood behind the two way mirror and waited to see which was right.

"Mr. Hess, my name is Dr. Lecter. I used to be a surgeon like you. The FBI believes that my talking to you will help them solve this case."

"Boy he just skips right past the bullshit doesn't he?" Izzy stated, a little surprised that Hannibal put up no false pretenses. Jack just sighed and decided to let the good doctor continue.

Mr. Hess glanced up from the table to Lecter's blank face. "Used to be?...Who'd you kill?" Hess smirked a bit, knowing that most surgeons stopped being surgeons when someone died on their table too times or from blatant neglect.

Hannibal remained silent for a moment before finally replying, "She was twelve." That was the only information he was willing to provide.

"Mine was thirty-six and I was drunk."

"So your license was pulled and you decided to operate on terminally ill patients?" It was an illogical leap for Hannibal but he did it on purpose to gauge the suspect's reaction.

Hess frowned and shook his head, "That bitch was ill sure. So was her little boyfriend."

"What?" Jack muttered. "What is he on about?"

"I knew for a while Lizzie was cheating on me, kicking me while I was down but then she had to go and bring that shit into our house, into **our** bed. No, no. I wasn't having it."

"Jack he's confessing to something else," Izzy stated, glancing over at him.

He nodded in agreement and turned on the mic for Hannibal's earpiece, "Dr. Lecter, Hess is confessing to a different killing. Keep probing."

"Mr. Hess...where is your wife?"

Hess began cackling to himself, "Why don't you ask her dogs."

* * *

"Meet Jeff Shipman, the man having an affair with the late Mrs. Hess," Zeller announced, hovering over their supposedly fourth Reaper victim. "We got his medical records back and discovered that he doesn't have any terminal illnesses."

"So Hess comes home, discovers wifey is in bed with her lover. He kills them both. He makes Shipman look like a Reaper victim and then cuts his wife into pieces, sautes her in her lover's blood...and feeds her to the dogs. That is demented." Izzy stated.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, "So the Reaper is still at large."

"So it would seem," Hannibal interjected.

* * *

**14 Years Ago**

"Alright Isabella you can go to the party-"

"YES!"

"-As long as you're back by midnight."

"Oh thank you so much dad!" A young Izzy tightly hugged her dad in appreciation. She had just graduated high school and everyone was going to a party hosted by Gretchen Kyle. Her father was incredibly wealthy and their mansion was, well, a mansion. Big enough to fit everyone who had been invited. Izzy was one of them since her and Gretchen were actually good friends.

Henry, Izzy's father laughed and hugged her back, knowing his daughter would be responsible and not do anything stupid. Lisa, Izzy's mother, looked on and just shook her head. She knew Izzy wanted very badly to go to that party. She had been accepted to go to Leicester University in the U.K. and so she wouldn't be seeing any of her friends or family for a long time. If only she knew.

Midnight had rolled around and a very happy and somewhat tipsy Izzy was dropped off at her house. She waved goodbye to her designated driver before making her way into the Ambrose household. All was quiet but not all was right. The brunette recognized something was up as soon as she turned the hallway light on. A flower vase had been knocked over and it was in pieces on the floor. She slowly wandered into the living room to find her mother laying in a pool of her own blood.

Izzy wanted to scream but the sound refused to come out. She immediately rushed over to her mother to see if she was still alive. The woman had been shot through the neck, her artery severed. She died in seconds. The young girl was shaking, terrified, tears pouring down. Something inside her snapped and she immediately rushed into the kitchen. She grabbed the biggest knife she could find and ventured to the stairs to find her dad. She had the mind to try and dial 911 but the phone line was dead. Fear drove her to move up the stairs. They creaked under her weight and it made her muscles quiver in anticipation.

Once at the top of the stairs, she found more disturbed furniture. A struggle had obviously happened here. She stepped closer to her parents bedroom and opened the door. There was no one inside. She then glanced down the hall and saw her bedroom door was slightly ajar. She moved towards it, checking her surroundings as she went. The closer she got to her room, the more her heart sank. She knew what was waiting for her and she didn't want to believe it.

Izzy pushed the door open and there laying on the floor, was her father, shot through the heart. The brunette lost it. The scream finally came and she didn't care who heard it. This must be some sort of fucked up dream. Maybe she drank more than she thought. This couldn't be real. She stooped down by her dead and placed the knife beside her. She cried audibly, shaking her father, begging, willing him to be alive.

She heard the floor creak behind her and fear clutched her heart. "I see you," Came the voice. Izzy screamed, grabbing the knife and spun around to stab her would be attacker.

* * *

**A/N:** Hey! Cliffhanger :3


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